


Salty Tea

by Piddleyfangs



Series: Salty Tea: The Corruption of Fire Emblem Awakening [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Corruption, F/F, Futanari, Magic, Slow Build, cock growth, hexes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1851508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piddleyfangs/pseuds/Piddleyfangs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lissa receives a nasty hex, the likes of which the Shepards have never seen. The path to recovery is a slow one, and to get better, one has to get so much worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hexed

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to this fandom.

Hefty battle gear recoiled against the wide stride of the marching Shepards. The freelance enforcers were a significant stature on any road they traversed, and this time was no exception, though their haste was of more significance than usual. Ahead of the initial groupings was the outlier with ferocious speed. Cradled in the arms of this urgent man was an ailing Lissa. Chrom carried her with clenched hands compressed down against her frail form, the usually pale girl took on a grim pallor, her eyes closed and her eye lids that covered them discolored a slight blue. She looked as sick as death, and Chrom was struggling to think of a time he was ever more worried. Few moments came to mind, the adrenaline so fierce that the sides of his heads throbbed like a thousand pounding timpani’s. 

The urgent prince arrived at camp, and made haste to give Lissa to the arms of Libra who had stayed at camp whilst the returning war party made mince of the calamitous Risen who had threatened the local village. Not a step was misplaced, and Lissa was placed urgently onto her bed for immediate treatment. Libra touched the back of his palm to her snow white forehead. “She’s completely frigid!” His explanation was a bit too loud, and the weary Frederick was already delivering all the blankets in camp to Lissa’s tent when only one or two would suffice. 

Chrom stood outside the tent, paying mind over his sister when a stern slap from a heavy satchel to his face made him attentive to the fact that Maribelle caught wind of Lissa’s illness, and was beyond furious. “Great heavens, what happened to my dear Lissa?!!!” Chrom made haste to help diffuse the situation, waving his figures down to gesticulate they must keep their volume down.

“Lissa got caught in the range of a sorcerer and has received some sort of hex-“

“A hex?! Then go get Henry to rattle some goat bones and fix her already!” She was as boisterous as ever, and was letting her attitude do all the piloting.

“Henry already took a look at her; whatever is leftover is just a sickness. He says the hex already passed through her system and all that is left to do is make sure she recovers.”

“Hmmph! Libra and I shall attend to her. You better keep a path open for us while we tend to her. Goodness, this is why I insisted I be allowed to accompany you all. Now poor Lissa has gotten the blunt end of some craven’s flux!” Maribelle’s rage went to fuel her dedication to see Lissa return to them healthy anew. 

The camp became a bit more permanent as time passed. Frederick made dedicated supply trips to town to bring back anything Maribelle interpreted to be Lissa’s desire. The poor ailed girl had awoken a day ago, and the whole while has been stooped in a fever of legends. So sickly she was, she reported at times her legs are but phantoms, and her arm muscles tighten so she can hardly move. Her nose is constantly blushed and runny, and her head was a constant ache.

Maribelle had a new force of dedication, the likes of which no one had ever seen. She slaved over any stove that could carry a pot for boiling soup or tea or some remedy Donnel swore helped his ma get over a bad case of the flu. Lissa received the finest treatment a refined woman like Maribelle could allow, the girl even at once demanding of Chrom that a finer resort be rented out for Lissa’s betterment. At last, after a week of ceaseless treatment, Lissa was capable of coherent speech, and even more, she was walking by the afternoon. She insisted upon joining the army for their usual dinner instead of the triple purified chicken soup and citrus tea she had survived on for a while now. While her stomach wasn’t quite strong enough yet for the wild game baked into a thick broth, or for the stream water, she was capable of handling the walking around the mess hall part. “At this rate, I should be all hunky dory by next week!” Lissa ecstatically proclaimed, a hint of levity at her situation.

Rumors around the camp were moths to the lantern in swarming frequency. Such as the fact for the first week Maribelle did not return to her tent and had slept by Lissa’s bed on the floor. Or that Maribelle had been bathing Lissa, either with a damp towel at her bed, or when Lissa regained mobility by way of private washings with her. Far-fetched talk said Maribelle chewed up Lissa’s food and spits it into her mouth, though Nowi swears on her life this was how it happened. Preposterous enough to be a lie, but this hyperbole captures how much Maribelle adores Lissa, and needs nothing more in her life than to keep the shining gem alive and healthy. The refined woman lived and dedicated herself to Lissa, and may have found something of a thrilling fulfillment in caring for her. She pampered to Lissa beyond the dedication of a most loyal worker, but one could tell Lissa was never truly ‘work’ to Maribelle. You could catch her smiles post-soup gathering, or find her with dreamy eyes pondering the nature of her scenario whenever she wrung out the towels from the last scrub down. She never felt closer to anyone in her life, and she could only pray that even a healthy Lissa might return to continue depending on her. Maribelle was thrilled to learn the answer was yes. 

Before they were best of friends, but now the two were joined at the hip. A much healthier Lissa still coughed once in a while in an un-combat-ready manner, but found everlasting comfort and care in the luxurious lap of Maribelle. Lissa was dangerously close to spoiled, and one could tell in her tomboyish grin she was devilishly aware of her actions, but she was not exploiting Maribelle. Lissa would never dare do such an action. This was what Maribelle seemed to want, so Lissa found it hard not to allow. Of course, anything too caring was immediately scraped. Lissa was getting her own food, and her own tea, and running her own errands, but any insignificant task found assurance in the helping hand of her drill hair caretaker. 

Lissa gagged at lunch half way through devouring a pork sandwich. Her stomach stirred like a blade stirred in stretching dough. It twisted and contorted around until the pain became unbearable. Her stomach was lit aflame with the symbols of a hex, though these aesthetics did not show through her clothing. Maribelle’s gloved hand fell to her shoulder. “Are you okay dear?!”

Lissa’s eyes shimmering and her cursed marking engrained deeper into the bottom of her stomach before fading back to her pale skin tone. She replies with rekindled strength, “Yeah, I’m fine… Feeling better already…”

 

…

 

After Lissa’s mishap at lunch, Maribelle was plagued, contrite she allowed for Lissa to be so unwell under her supervision. Her efforts in keeping watch over Lissa did not cease. Baths remained a consistent thing, as well did Lissa’s lunches being combed through by Maribelle for any offending materials. If so much as a suspicious grain found a way into her bread, the whole sandwich would be disregarded and some new food would be found to better care for Lissa.

Lissa was fed up with it after another day past the last, and pouted about all day how she was growing sick of being treated like a delicate pot. Before they had found such a precise balance, where Lissa could thrive in her princess fantasies whilst her dear friend felt as though she contributed enough to her safety, but now the magic was being too far pressed. Lissa felt bundled up and protected for the sake she may one day break, a bird shimmied back inside the nest on account of a cough. She was getting sick of it all, and she was even sicker of getting left behind. She counted the times Chrom and company had went out to do battle with the Risen that too close to the camp, and it reached the point she could no longer record the tally on both hands. 

To top it all off, she was also developing this nasty rash. It starts as usual as ever, when then the very air feels like an irritating inferno on her stomach. Rustling ants of spice and prickly sensations hover like phantoms over her stomach, leaving behind their ghastly sensations of intense itch. Lissa would then have to find a place to wrestle with her corset and dress, and undo her petticoat, and then lift her tight stockings to get at the itch under petticoat pants. Her lowers stomach was irritated and red, and there was little Lissa could do but scratch. So she brought her finger nails to the same spot each day, scratching, her fingers little red marking tallies against the spot of how many times she’s scratched at it. It’s gotten out of hand, and she now avoids baths with Maribelle in fear it will come up in conversation and lead her friend to invest in heavy armor lined with bubble wrap and mattresses. 

So she resigned to the acts of scratching in secrecy. She made sure no one was nearby who could report, and at last after a day of pent up urges to ravage her stomach with the sharpest thing on hand, she would lift aside any obstructing clothing, and at last vanquish the daily curse of the meddlesome rash. In all honesty, at first it was a nuisance, but now it was routine. Scratching was satisfying, and this particular demanding itch was only skin level, so she didn't need to dig too deep to derive satisfaction from it. The only hard part was avoiding any sort of situation where Maribelle could spot it. This brought Lissa to the conclusion that she is removing belly blocking clothing with her friend far too often, for the amount of situations she had to dance around became staggering. Of course all these provisions were only recently added.

It was all for the sake of Lissa’s health, to check the afflicted blushing areas that were scattered across her body. All for the sake of her. Lissa hated how time was making her really start to hate those words. Maribelle had taken a liking to stamping all her deeds with those words. “For you Lissa.” She would always say, no matter what the example. “Lissa, I know I've become a tad overbearing, but I do this extravagance for you, less we risk some awful disease to make a meal of you! And I will personally never see that happen to my dear Lissa.” It was flattering, really! Lissa appreciated all Maribelle meant, but it was to the point it was extraneous! Lissa was not some bed ridden girl starting to count her days left. She was making an incredible recovery, and besides a rash she wouldn't let a soul know about she was completely fine! All blemishes aside, her health record was an impressive feat, and yet she could not get Maribelle to pay attention to this statistic. Instead she was stuck with Maribelle with napkin in hand, wiping away excess mush from the suspiciously pure soup Maribelle could conjure up with Libra in the kitchen. “A lady mustn't let her face become like the lap of some vandal who wipes his hands on his slacks.” Lissa hated how she heard that exact phrasing at least twice.

She shot her hips forward into her scratching at her lower stomach that evening. She felt beads of sweat make salty snail trails down her pale face. She rolled her eyes lightly as the scratch faded away. Each evening it seemed to become more and more a passionate affair to make away with her itch. At this rate, it was to become something of an important affair. The euphoria was rating higher and higher, and anticipation to the event gave way to pure excitement. Lissa could place a finger on why this itch felt so particularly incredible. One thing for certain, this particular issue would prove auspicious soon for poor Lissa. Lissa itches a bit nearer her loins every evening, until the one where heats met from the fires in stirred loins to fires upon her stomach. She lost track of events that occurred.

…


	2. Decline

Lissa was invited to tea one especially quiet afternoon. The party had recently departed from the risen infested lands to regroup in a plain elsewhere more deep in Ylisse. The area was more homely to the majority of soldiers, and Maribelle was making the best of the situation and had made reservations at a more high-end tea club. It was extravagant and classy, with well-tuned string instruments and piano playing arrangements for low energy situations. Lissa wasn’t thrilled by the setting, but Maribelle worked some wonders with tea. Her stomach was itching at the time, but Lissa was equipped to listen to what her friend had to say. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a tad clingy, dear.” Maribelle started to say between sips at her lightly citrus lined tea. “I’ve just wanted to express my appreciation of you, as well make sure of your hasty recovery. I apologize if my actions went out of your comfort zone.”

“It’s fine Maribelle, though you did do a bit too much.” Lissa replied, a thoughtful pose to her little finger at her pale chin. “I just don’t want to feel like some vulnerable thing in your eyes, y’know? I’m your friend; I’m not some treasure to be guarded.” 

“I couldn’t agree more. I apologize again, and swear on my honor that such a misbalance shall never occur again. Henceforth, you shall not be overly catered to; you are essentially your own woman. If you ever need my help, feel free to seek me out, though.’ Lissa nodded to this with a big cheery grin. One of her hands was diving beneath the table, sliding a hand up her skirt, and tugging away at the tights beneath, trying to get a good itch at her stomach. It was begging for attentive pressure to her fiery regions. She was lucky that she was so discrete, for she could obscure each action from Maribelle. Nothing would have convinced her more of Lissa’s health still in need of unfavorable attention more than Lissa’s odd habits that were developing. 

The rest of the afternoon in town led the blondes to visit through a few shops and stores. A clothes and tailor yielded little product, though Maribelle found some extra spools of fabric for possible sewing if she ever found the time. A trip to the medicine store yielded a surprisingly in depth speech on the nature of medicines, Maribelle pondering over concoctions with extraneous or adulterated recipes, some of which would not even function with the current composition. Next trip led to the staff and sage store, which was the greatest middle ground between the two, for healing staffs was common ground. As a final destination, Lissa went to a black smith to get her axe sharpened. Frederick snuck off with it during one battle, and hadn’t found the time to fix the mighty axe, so Lissa felt it good to finally cease the day on this situation. Maribelle suggested they pay visit to the little fair that was seemingly being hosted the cobblestone path a few paces, past all the humble homes. Lissa nearly agreed, but her itch.

This was the most incredible itch she had felt yet. This itch was of the utmost intensity. It felt like abrasive ants, rubbing their cindery bodies against the back of her skin. Her eyes went wide, and a cold sweat broke out. Lissa politely declined, and made haste back to the tent, leaving Maribelle confused.

Lissa never had ripped her clothing off much faster. Her petticoat was hardly well removed, but she had to get unlimited access to her tights right now. She scratched and scratched, the itch doing the usual action and leading further and further down, leading her to let her index finger prod at her loins, and find with little ignorance, a chance to delve deeper. The chance rested in the itch, unmistakably existing between two plump lips of her slick walls. She dragged her fingers hard against each wall, her goal being to satisfy. She was on fire, so of course she was out to douse the flame. Delving fingers back and forth, bringing her hand to her face to at times lick, she was finding it harder and harder to stop. She thrust her hips with her bobbing breasts, doing her finest work to hilt at her fingers, riding them herself. She couldn't take it much longer. For sure, for sure! She was cumming, but in truth she had already came. She was hardly thinking about it when she came with all the most intense arousal she had ever felt. Nuisance fires were now very clearly intense, pure arousal. And it wasn't shrinking, but it was growing. By everyday now she was becoming more and more different. She caught onto nothing, not a thing was wrong to her.

Her changes were unnoticeable. She would never notice that her clit was engorged on blood that bloated it out a few more tiny centimeters. It was such an indiscriminate change, how would it ever come to her notice? It puffed up, and then solidified with its brand new length and thickness. It kept up with this until Lissa hadn’t enough strength in her pinching fingers to keep up to it.

A few days have passed, the army deploying to remerge back with the Risen stricken area where Lissa was originally sickened. The Risen were still a problem, they would just have to settle for being more aware of curses, and avoid even getting hit by them at all possible. Lissa woke the first morning their camp was settled back where it all began. She cleared her throat, and got ready to rise from bed, when suddenly her loins itched sharply enough to draw her rear to instantly fall back into bed. Just… Just one time this morning! Then she can get out of bed. Just once.

…

 

Chores were piling up on a more than busy day for the bustling little soldiers. Frederick stood watch over the recruited men and women as they worked to pay for their feed and roosts. “-And Cordeilia, if you could check over our weaponry for any significant damages and see if they could be replaced? Kjelle, you’re on armor duty. That last batch had plenty of armor slayers and made minced metal of our heavy knights. Has anyone seen Tharja as of late?” On and on the dutiful knight went. He did not even have a list, he merely knew by committed memory who ought do what, and what ought get done for their merry little band to keep their heads high, and the journey well. And as it went, Lissa had been slacking off in quite a few chores as of late. 

He counted through the amount if times she was liable to be off her duties. She had spent a fair amount of time too ail to do any of her tasks, and for a little bit later while she recovered. Maribelle had covered as best she could for the times Lissa was unable to act. But now Lissa was very much more able, and Maribelle it seemed, was still doing her work. Frederick was certainly unsure how within his authority it was to enforce work on Lissa, but she hadn’t a very good reason to be malingering any longer. 

He found Lissa while she was trying to sneak over to mess hall to pilfer a few rolls left over from breakfast. “Milady, you have not been doing your chores as of late. I would not wish to inform your brother of this behavior, and I’m sure you wouldn’t either.” Frederick stated ever so firmly to Lissa, both his hands behind is back, but his knees spread just a tad to show a sort of familiarity in his stature without dropping the stiffened firmness of his legislative form. 

“Oh, but F-Frederick…” Lissa touted her shoulders, one posing against her cheek. Her body moves on autopilot, flowingly curling into this flirty stance, curling her toes, and tilting her body forward. She drew a line down the chest of the armored knight, but the iron shell her wore did little to prevent her heated messaged to spread. “I just can’t do this work yet, Freddy. Could you maybe just maybe pleeeease cover this for me?” She stated, her eyes keeping eye contact with whole new meanings, the context of her usually innocent stares seemingly shattered by the blushing knight. Frederick cleared his throat, turning his head.

“I…I will make arrangements for today for you to be excused.”

“Maaaybe for the week?”

“…F-For the week, milady.” Frederick timidly walked off with his tail curled tight around his trembling thighs. Lissa was not in a much more put together state. Her pale face was crushed by a trembling blush. What had she done?! She was never one to slack off work, and she even seduced Frederick?! She never treated anyone that way, and she certainly never tried to use her gender position to try and gain some sort of upper hand. She was crippled by this realization, and it laid conquest to her mind, forcing out her innocent thoughts in exchange for this clamorous mental argument over what she had done. 

Lissa tossed the roll she was trying to waltz off with, and headed instantly back to her tent, hoping she’d make it before Maribelle either brought the tea set for lunch or decided to check in on Lissa and question why she still wasn't doing her work. Maribelle was ever kind to have ever cared so much for Lissa, and even covered the extensively considerable amount of work Lissa forced on to her, but a line was drawn starting this week, with the cleric certainly back at a state of health she could get back to making proof that she was not delicate. 

She was curled back in her blankets, trying to get over what she had done, and ever further her advances into her skirt. She didn't want her trembling hands to make feelings of her cravings, but her nether crumbled under the envisioned sensations. Lissa gave test to see if now her stomach rash could still be an area to satisfy herself, but this was found false. Only her lower lips now kept the cure to her irrationality, to her intensifying heat that lay between her thighs. She was skirt-less, still garbed in only her tights having yet to bare her war skirt.

Her middle digit made the cross down first. She shamefully slipped her finger between puckered puffs of her taint, playing carefully, writhing fingers wetly wiggling over with her lower lips spread like soft fruit slices. She gasped sharply, her still red face certainly discovering a different shade all together. Her next two fingers that neighbored her middle finger made the collision with her vulva. They tempted along the puff exterior, but made haste in coming further teasers at her linings. She felt the ever growing temptation to just give in, and make insertions of her tempting fingers. And her clit was ever engorged in heated blood, standing stiffly, about as far as perhaps an inch, but this may only be the imagination playing tricks on the accuracy of the measurements. She pawed at the engorged puffy stiffer, and found the feeling to be beyond the best she had ever felt. Her breasts tingled with incredible sensations. Her lips spread to moan-

“Lissa, darling?” Maribelle poked her head in, bringing her torso carrying a fine tray of tea with her, “I brought tea! I hope you do not mind, but I made your cup a tad more sugary than usual, since I figured you could use a fair bit more of flavor this morning. Cooking has been a fair bit more drab as of late. You do enjoy sweets, no?” Lissa smiled nervously at her friend who brought her classiest tea tray with her and set it down kindly on a nearby wooden table, the girl calming her nerves with a huff of air. “Are biscuits a fair choice for our sweet side dish to our tea?” 

“S-sure! I love sweets!” Lissa dragged her fingers back. They were soaked and sticky.

 

…

 

It was the thick of the night, the ebony sky casted a haze over the camp that shrouded the wayward band in their little tents and hollow campfire lights in a most deep of darkness. Torches were met with an increasingly hearty depth of shadow to be dealt with, and traveling around the camp was discouraged. Antics proceeded as normal, though now the emphasis of foolery was the resulting clumsiness brought about by the insistent maze of the dark. Stahl had bumped into Tharja by his own foul in walking multiplied by the lack of vision. She was contemplating if being an owl would have helped his case at all, and the screams of regret were the first noises to really pierce the night fairly well. It was the perfect sort of night to get away with something personal, for not a soul would be listening, too wrapped up in their own sorts now made trickier by the night.

Lissa, all wrapped up in the embrace of her bed covers, made haste to gobble the last of her meat pie, licking her lips clean of her consumption. She had made it quite the meal, though she had doubt it was enough to really have worked up the sweat she was developing. Beads of ripe sweat flowed down her forehead in shifts, shivering down across her pale face. She thought merely the heat was a lone factor, so she shed her covers and made haste in her removal of her night gown. Her modest pale form was laid bare to only the blind eyes of the tent walls. Gentle light breasts like petite scoops of cream, curvature to her hips as wide as chair’s back rest’s, and legs that carry her at a short height with shapely support. Lissa’s form was in average condition save only for the sweat that formed across her form and the swollen nub at the base of her folds. Her nether lips puckered with a shade of pink usually unknown to Lissa. She had never beheld her lower lips at such a state of blush. A curious sensation was a single bead of sweat running across the folds, and tickling the nose of her inch long clit. 

Her form wished to remain at rest, but some part of her had received the most rattling tingle at her spine, and was driven to react to the curios sensation by applying her fingers yet again to the lengthened spot. She had little reason to ponder it, and this time more than ever she was mindless in her actions. She hardly even looked at what she was letting her hands be free to apply. They rubbed in tight pinches across the slender length. They prodded and poked, and at her most mindless her hands did a great might tug. It all seemed in vain, but it soon bore fruit for Lissa was shocked back onto her rear upon the floor with the sensation of a slight squirt. From the tip of her bloating clit, which now doubled in girth and in length, she squirted a mere droplet of this white hazy mix. It dripped down onto the floor, and made little an appearance to the enamored blonde. She felt her eyes turn to spirals and her maw turn to an open portal for her tongue to hang from.

In her frenzy, she spread herself wide like shy flower, ever so cautious about her actions as some part of her felt the occasion begin to escalate. It was the same as riding a bull, totally aware of where you are headed, but you are also fully aware that nothing within your power can stop this beast. She hammered thoroughly into her slit, making haste to go to the time tested max of two fingers. She felt never a need to test for if any more could ever stretch herself, but upon this horny chance, as her mind went blank and her moans become more apparent, she felt it needed enough that a last a third and even a fourth do part her folds and spread her walls another few inches wide. Her thighs had never felt so distant before.

Her mind did return to her, but in a hazy mess of a wrecked conscious growing ever dependent on the sensations she delivered. It was like driving the clouds of heaven, to float endlessly in effortless bliss. It was the benefit of feeling one part sexually deranged, and another part blissfully innocent and naïve of the actions she did commit. Her purity winced at the occasional fluid that flew, and the insistence of tasting a fair few of the bitter fluids that were flung from her ravaged hole. She felt so close, and yet one action remained unclaimed.

She writhed, raising her petite proper rear into the air like a horny beast, and with a need to grant showmanship to that waving fanny, she parted her cheeks wide apart for the painter’s canvas, giving the most lewd angle she could, and she made good on her center pucker and plugged it with a lewd duo of explorative fingers. She shouted and moaned, her mind begged her to pick a name, the name of someone she would be embarrassed to have how low she was in the mud, how she craved this dirt and now spread it evenly upon her form like a hot day’s powder. She searched her more basic feelings, straying from love, and felt Maribelle would be the worst to see her, with the filth aspect playing into her more mannered friend. Lissa’s animal half laid claim to that name, and spewed in horny shouts, “Oh, Maribelle, please don’t look! Please don’t find me… I was just so horny, pleeeaaaaaase…” She had no idea why, but imaging her there drove her even more wild, and her clit squirted, and her folds squirted, and her brain squirted a little of the intellectual pressures right out of her ear. 

Her walls clenched tight around her fold bound fingers, and she collapsed inward on herself as climax warped her whole form in undulating tides of ecstasy. Lazily she reached upward to climb herself back upon the bed, and pass out completely naked. She would cause a tad of a stir when someone would have to go back to awaken her for she never awoke to a single one of the many calls for her, but she couldn't care less. All she cared about now, was fitting in her daily masturbation. 

…


	3. Fountain of Corruption

The campaign to bring an end to the scourge of the local risen has birthed an issue. A visit to the infirmary confirms that the terrible creatures had dealt a blow on the group as countless warriors lay weakened on beds, awaiting the healing attention of Maribelle and Libra. These Risen were not just some pointless punching bags to get a few extra notches in one’s belt. These particular undead were proving incredibly powerful and skilled. The warring party of the Shepards was dwindling in size, anyone not a sturdy powerful warrior trimmed off from the group and now resting their heavy heads on mattresses. The cleric who had been with the last attack was one off the wounded, and Maribelle and Libra would be far too busy tending to the broken to be able to attend the next assault. This left only Lissa as a candidate to accompany the warring group in the conflict. 

The protests from Maribelle were loud and protective. “What?! Put darling Lissa back on the frontlines?! She is still recovering from that nasty curse, and you want to test her fortitude by facing down some putrid monstrosities? And what if one of them gets to her and we soon find her on a sickbed again?! She’s still not done resting from the last time!” It took a long while, but eventually she was brought down from boiling to simmering, and Frederick fetched Lissa from her (very locked up) tent. 

You could mistake Lissa for a completely different person, as she had let some herself go. She hadn't worn her cleric garb in a while, mostly sticking to flowing pajamas. Her hair was a tad bit sweaty, though nothing a quick dunk in a stream with some products couldn’t fix. She seemed a bit hard to get prolonged focus from, and overall distracted by other matters. But when the call back to war came loud and clear, Lissa snapped back to her usual self, and was adorned in the garb of a war cleric, baring her preferred axe and an arrangement of staves to assist her allies is combat. She wore a quirky smirk and cute perky eyes. Maribelle was convinced of her health, and sought out to honor Lissa’s wishes of being treated a shade less fragile than most vases. With a kiss on the forehead blushing Lissa’s cheeks as red as cherries, she was granted blessings and approved to be sent off to the battle. 

The marching towards the combat area was a stern silent march. While normally such frivolous campaigns spawned plenty of light hearted banter and foolery, for once every soul was a quiet one. They’ve seen the wounds, they’ve felt the burning in their gut to return the favor to the foes who had given them such harsh terrors. Horses clapped against the grass, kicking dirt up whenever their speeds fired up. Heavy armor clacked heavily against the bodies of the marching soldiers. Lissa blushed quietly, trying to cover her cheeks and mouth with one hand to hide the flushing feelings that were stuffing her head up. 

She had never felt this way during combat for sure. It was for sure unrelated, for Lissa was never turned on by the prospect of fighting some powerful foes who had dealt blows to friend previously, or hell she was never turned on by combat! This was a heat carried over, a burning desire to huddle down on her knees and give in that was brought with her from the pleasures she had back in her own tent. Her thighs ached for the privacy of the tent, her fingers curled with a lingering desire to be wetted with the fluids of her pillage. She gasped aloud, stirring a bit of a worry from those nearby, many still concerned she may not be well enough yet for combat. Lissa puffed her cheeks, and stomped her boots, insisting, “I’m fine, I’m fine! I can handle this, just… You know how I hate all this marching around!” 

Combat commenced with the archers spotting moving masses down the hill the company had surmounted. Bellowing out a wreaking war cry, the quickly advancing undead sprawled forward, wielding ancient axes, and twitchingly lifting their shields to block the incoming blow of a curtain of arrows. Gripping their lances and drawing their swords, the front lines advanced, grasping their weapons and clashing them down against the forms of their horrid enemies. Lissa kept to a sideline of the fronts, standing safely away from the immediate combat. She held her axe halfheartedly, and kept her staff nearby in case some damaged ally came for help. 

The immediate strategy was prevailing, just as the tactician had intended. The archers were safeguarding either escape route, and the frontlines were pressing forward to push the foes away, creating a safe bubble where Lissa would be able to lie in wait to assist the wounded. Frederick rode bravely back to Lissa, presenting his shoulder wounds to her. The girl had to be drawn away from some distractor that occupied her hands for a short time a ways up her skirt. She insisted it was a snag. She lifted her staff, and healed him just as well as any other time, and his gaping wounds were made no more. He nodded sternly, gave her some brief appraisal on her work getting back onto the field, and rode back into the lines to act out his duties. Lissa was never so thankful for the seclusion. 

She turned either way, her required spacing leaving her little privacy to make her damned writhing loins be settled! It felt like a boiling pot, a seething froth of irritating hot stirring. Her loins dotted her thighs with sudden drops of her honey, leaving her inner thighs soaked over the course of the battle. Her certainty it was not sweat was confirmed by her sneaking a lick and blushing her cheeks a thousand shades darker. Her breasts had never been so imbued with tingling, and never before had she even considered such a desire to pinch at her tips, but this was a time for many firsts. For the first time, she considered abandoning the war party for the sake of privacy.

She turned her head either way like a nervous maiden considering entering her first pub. Wide eyed and cutely blushed, she slowly started to step back a bit. Stahl rode up her way, and presented a wound. Lissa was fast to heal him, and haste-fully sent him back, not even considering a momentary chat. She at least had the excuse the war effort needed him, for the battle was only about half won thus far. Lissa apologized under her breath, and escaped from the area to the nearby thicket of trees. It was a tiny island of forested region, but it was enough to grant Lissa some decent privacy.   
Lissa landed on her rear upon the grass of the shrouded area. Gasping with glassy breath, and tearing through her clothes until she was bare, she rose her naked body to stand and regard her form. She felt her fingers slide over her pale thighs, regarding the petite formation of her hips, the slim waist, thin tummy, and nearly flat chest with just enough weight to her breasts for there to be something to jiggle ever so lightly. She never felt such an ego to her form, but now more than ever she felt it entirely necessary to absorb and enjoy the feminine form. Her evaluating digit was already plowing past her folds straight through her light pink folds. She knew containing her moans would be required. Her task was to finish her session, and while riding the few precious seconds of silence, rush back and finish her duties to the army. Excuses though! She needed at least one! Had to think of a good reason wh- Oh gods why does it feel so good? Her head shot blank. Now a single thought that didn’t contribute to her work. She plowed a second finger, even a third. It wasn’t enough though; it was just something about the angle. It got her wetter than ever, it was enough to make her let loose and let a little moans slip out, but it wasn’t enough! Her staff on the other hand…

Lissa burrowed the holy orb at the tip of her staff into the dirt of the ground. She looked either way, her tongue sticking out, her eyes glassy and considering her environment like a foolish horny animal. She gripped the staff, spreading her legs to position herself over it, straddling her loins around it. She felt her lower lips spread around the staff. She thrust up and down against the golden rod, riding it up and down, sanding the surface until she slickened it and settled her nethers at the tip. She blinked, and for one succulent second considered sanity. She thought if this was right, went by the concept she might not be able to handle the intensity that may follow. She thought- She stopped all thought and plowed herself upon it. She never felt anything so incredible. She screamed in spittle spewing pleasure. 

She flexes her lithe stomach, and rocks and stirs her hips against the rod that pierced into her. Thighs rode against either side of the rod, keeping herself positioned. Her bare feet touched the ground, her toes curling into the grass. Her knees rode up and down, up and down, riding against the staff with a fast bouncing motion. She stiffed her lips, and jammed shut her eyes. She couldn’t summon any more moans at one point, she couldn’t hold back for much longer. She rode faster and faster, her hips bucking, her knees shooting into the air and crashing her body against it.

This is, she knew it was coming. She grabbed the staff, ripped it from the earth, her legs betraying her by not keeping a good tempo. She threw her back onto the ground, slamming herself with the urgency her loins commanded. She used one hand to slam into her as fast as she could. She couldn’t imagine the speed picking up much more with her current pace. She even considered seeing if the healing orb would fit inside, but she was too thick into it now to dedicate to a new direction. Her free hand gripped at her clit, finding the eager little bud at a new thickness, a new length. Little fella must be more excited than ever. She knew she was. With a sturdy pinch to her clit, and one more thrust worthy of shattering boulders, her body exploded with the worst orgasm to quake her body yet. She collapsed, drooling, and passing out of consciousness for a few more minutes. 

She awoke a little later, crawling to her clothing, trying to apply it all back onto her body. Using her staff as a walking cane, albeit an extra slippery one, she walked back to the army, catching a lucky break in that the battle was just ending, and no one ever caught on to Lissa escaping. Save for Frederick, but he was easily seduced to another opinion. Lissa drew a little line on his armored chest, insisting this needn’t be mentioned, and with some luck he complied. Lissa was getting quite skilled at getting away with things with Frederick. 

They returned to camp, and Lissa returned to her tent. The army reported mysterious moans kept many a well eared soldier awake. They couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from, but for certain no one blamed innocent Lissa. Though, they were not the only ones unaware of what secrets were emerging, as Lissa herself was not done facing down the path of lusts quite yet. 

…

 

Camp was all the seclusion Lissa needed. All the privacy she could ever desire was the ever growingly complex routine to her now required masturbation habit. Starting out after the incident with her staff, she has been at least sinking her fingers into her at least twice a day. First come morning, and then come night. Though, how deep into the night grew ever more complex, and ever later. She quickly discovered that her moans being too frequently at the same time really helped to alert her camp mates to the events. So in the end, the tactic was to wait until even Panne was at last resting, and then rock her folds as hard as she could. She by now has fashioned broken staves to serve as the perfect makeshift dildos; something about such a holy staff being repurposed for pleasing her taint was an incredible additional kink to her every session. 

With her schedule, the only real difficulties that ever truly occurred was the random bursts of intense lust, or something arousing her more than she figures it should. Such as the way Panne stretches, or maybe how Nowi jumps, or just Tharja in general. Perhaps the worst, was the way Maribelle worked her mouth.

That thick set of lips curled and moistened with unnoticed freshening by Maribelle’s stealthy tongue. She was at all times woman like without even a tint of effort that showed. And that for sure brought some tension to her surface. She was repressed, and never truly cut loose to the degree Lissa would adore to see her. Her lips spread open widest either when she yelled, or when appraising some tea. Lissa found plenty of excuses to argue about tea. “No no no! Sweety, honey just does not go with that blend, it completely overshadows the fresh fruit tang to it!” Lissa really liked how her mouth curled with honey, but so few times did honey piss Maribelle off, so Lissa really harped about the one brew Maribelle swore could never work with honey. That brew was quickly becoming a sore spot, so Lissa couldn’t exploit this for long, and certainly it’s not as if she could rub one off right there. This usually just leads to a third session anyways, and she knew this just was not healthy. But, H-o-ney. Honey <3 

She jabbed her fingers down through her folds, piercing her lower lips over and over again, her body jerking forward in her sat up position like she was getting punched in the gut. She cooed her lips, and imitated a little moan, “H-o-neeeey!” She giggles in a bubbly potent tincture of her own lust. “Honey honey hooooney!~” She sung her inspired song, curling her fingers tight around her hole, and slurps her drool around in her moaning little mouth. A vital part to every session, was giving her clit the extra attention it was now deserving. Her fingers went to pinch her little clit. Recently the sensitive nub was secreting fluids a tad bit more often than Lissa would consider correct, not that she knew, she never really had a good sex talk to make sure that nub shouldn’t spew. 

This time, though, touching her clit SHOT her forth into the bed, the busting force quaking her bed in the wake of her shooting mass out into the bed. She screams, something happening, something awfully awfully insanely sexual. She wiggles in the bed she now lays in, curling her form into the bed like a writhing worm. Her fold inserting fingers were free, and no longer devoted to the work of her feminine folds. This was all clit, it was no more effort than pinching her clit, nothing more than just over working her expanded elongated clit. 

She tries sitting up a bit, resuming a former posture, let her head rest from the shock waves, but her fingers were rouge agents. One of them slid a digit down the underside of the bloated nub, and it sent a shotgun blast of the exact same caliber through Lissa, losing her to another mindless minute of rubbing up and down her clit without any intervention on her part. Every blast was another second longer of brain shut downs, each time she came she felt less and less resistant to what was on going. 

Her shivering hands that played with her sexes beyond her control like observing another person left her now in a constant coma. So, with plenty of time to spend, and not much that can really boggle the mind without feeling incorrect, she let her thoughts wander to what would satisfy such a horny woman. She closed her innocent eyes, though they would never open innocent again.

She saw herself attending a special session that Maribelle had arranged for her. It was the princess’s birthday, so the proper girl felt it correct to host an incredible party for her most precious love. Laying nude atop the tea table, her curvy form wide and removed of her layers of exquisite clothing, Maribelle spread her moistened thighs, showing her gaping moistened folds for Lissa to behold. She curls her lips into a thick smile, her eyes pierce into Lissa’s mind with slender pupils half hidden hazy behind drooped sly eye lids. Spreading her lips, she speaks in a husky whisper, “Oh my, would you be a dear and relive me of all the tea that’s just slipping between my thighs. Surely Lissa, by now you’ve acquired a taste for my very special brew of tea, no?” Lissa licks her lips, more than pleased to comply. Her imagined self had no such innocence she’d normally associate herself with. She was a horny animal. 

Her hazy dream continued on, and she dove at her girly prey, slipping inside and lathering every fold of her nether. She slurped loudly, a hearty guzzle of the slippery beverage that seeped out from her form, having to squeeze out each drop of goodness like a ripe fruit. Lissa shivered every time the larger female she ate from squealed a little unjust moan. She moaned whenever she felt the curled hair maiden’s lips quiver or her thighs squeeze around her head. It was incredible. 

Lissa then felt her reasoning grow hazy. Was this a gift, or was she forcing herself on Maribelle, insisting it was her turn to let loose some lusts. Maribelle was no prime in this relationship, her eyes hazy with the lust she had, but her pouting little mouth squirmed. “W-what if someone hears us? Y-you can’t just do this whenever- oh my oh my. M-my goodness you’re so good at this…” Oh yes, to feel her resistance crumble. Lissa took the bliss of the event as fuel and climbed atop her mate. She spread her thighs, revealing her long, blushing di- 

Lissa’s eyes opened and she looked down as something hot spat on her stomach molten fluids. Peering down with eyes filled with dread, she witnessed what has occurred. Her clit has spread to five inches, departing from her folds entirely, It was incredible. Lissa gripped tighter around it, only to feel it push back. She watched as the flesh expanded and gorged itself. It fattened thicker and thicker, fighting her palm to loosen more and more. First moments of her gripping was if she were grabbing a stick, and by now it was more the size of a sword handle. The tip of her clit was especially fattening, more and more, a little slit splitting open. And at last, with a proper head, a hole for her spewing juices to make puddles on her stomach, what was unmistakably a penis had sprouted. It was at five inches, but it showed no sign of wanting to stop growing. It had only taken form like a tree sprout, and now it sought to dominate the roof of the forest. 

Her tongue spread from her agape mouth, little gasps followed by heavy gasps matching the tempo of a marching horse let loose from her maw. She was lost to her pace, she couldn’t bring herself to care that this was happening to her. She didn’t want to care! She wanted to feel it pulsate, feel all the new veins, all the new nerves, and the new sensation of the way liquids secreted from the curious tip. It was incredible, and every inch it grew earned a stiff chuckle from the lust driven princess.

Her hand started to find it most pleasing to form a sort of pumping motion. Gripping around the circular object, and then just pumping. Letting loose, squeezing the fluids out of it. Her thumb was a curious vessel that could prod at any new nerve she found, it being the least dedicated digit to her pumping voyage. It found the little path between the glans cause secretion to speed, veins to pump, and her thighs to tremble. Her toes curled, a bead of sweat formed on her forehead, and her hand could not be ceased. It rose to the tip, thumb traveling over every contour of the back of the base, sliding over every vein, pinching at the tip. And then it comes thundering down like a stone returns to the earth, falling back down to her loins, and slapping against her skin with a loud thump! 

Thump! She screamed as loud as she wanted! Thump! She squirts a thick spray across her stomach, white fluid running down the sides of her pale stomach. She screams. Thump! She moans as loud as she can, and in an impressive eruption, a lustful spray streams out from her dick, spraying her face, the rest of the load falling down the rest of the way over her breasts, across her stomach, and the rest settling at the bottom of the base. She moans in little tired gasps. She shuts her eyes, and brings a finger to her lips, sampling the flavor. She grins.

…

 

Lissa’s days now consisted of at least three sessions per day. She would awake and service her new addition so she can think clearly enough to get out of bed, the messes never too much of a problem for they were more of a pre-breakfast snack rather than some fluids discarded into bed covers. Breakfast was the usual affair, except if some event occurred that brought a stiffening to the princess’s tights, she would to have to rub it until it popped to get the hard on away, and there was little restraint left in the little blonde’s mind. If there was no place to hide, she would still spew a healthy load and face the consequences later. Mid-day would be the second guaranteed jerking off time. It would either be before they moved camp to the next location, or a little bit after. This is also the time the group would most often go to battle. Lissa was at this point an almost useless healer unit, for she couldn't wield her staff without trembling with dirty thoughts, plaguing her every attempt at healing an ally. She was still quite skilled with an axe, but healing just led to her running off and sneaking a quick rub.

The final session to any day was the late night session. Once she was certain everyone was asleep, when the night was her’s, and she could be as intimate with herself as she pleased, she would drop her skirt, and notice the bulging tent at the front of her tights. Pressing at her leggings, feeling the built up pressure in her stiffening rod. Her lips part and coo, and from then on out the rest of the night is a downward spiral towards her inevitable climax. This session was always her loudest.

Hey days went on more or less exactly to this model, with plenty of impromptu masturbations, and a ludicrous assembly of dirty thoughts forming at just about anything she did. Though, the worst thing for her thoughts was for sure her tea parties with Maribelle. The beautiful blonde with a generous bust would gather a delightful pot of tea. She would pour with precision into a delicate teacup, not a drop straying from a precise little stream. Three little sugar cubes were gathered atop a silver spoon, and lowered into the tea so as to avoid the unnecessary splash that just dropping them in would summon. A careful stir from her slender hands, a nimble rotation of her thin boned wrist, a melodic ding from cleaning her spoon against the rim of the cup. The beautifully maintained maiden then lifts the tea cup that lies atop a fine pink and golden plate, and offers it to Lissa. The whole act, every moment Lissa saw some opportunity to crash all this effort and ram into the girl over her precious table. She wanted to see her break.

This tension topped her efforts one evening. It was a precariously full moon, an omen that many considered the right time for anything to go awry. With about an hour until bed, and stomach cleansed since dinner about two hours ago, Maribelle found this warm summer evening to be the perfect moment for a dash of tea and some carefully selected munchies. Lissa felt her thighs tremble with appreciation for Maribelle. So much about her was always delicate, or precise, or as with the case of this evening, perfectly selected. She wanted to see her tastes stray just a bit, let some filth loose in her brew. Not the muddy sort of filth, Lissa would never accept that sort. No, more like the sweaty moaning filth.

Lissa sat on a fine chair, greetings exchanged minutes ago when the young blonde had entered the tea tent for tonight’s diversion. She sat uneasily in her seat while Maribelle was across the room, attending an iron stove and paying close mind to the kettle which had just achieved a shivering whisper of a steam. Lissa’s nails rode up and down, her fingers arched against the chair. Her boots tapped against the floor, her knees flailing lightly. Her eyes were glued to the girl, watching the way her rear was hidden behind her skirt, like a gift hidden behind a curtain. Her back bent immaculately, her slim fingers lifting the kettle to pour the tea into either cups. She turns her head to Lissa after having lifted a vial of an amber liquid. Her lips perk, and she asks, “Lissa darling, will you be wanting any honey?”  
Lissa squirmed, her face went downward, her expression masked by shadows. She spoke, “S-say honey again…”

“I’m sorry I can’t hear you.”  
“I-I said, say honey again you bitch.”  
“Lissa! Heavens, what one earth has provoked you to use such crude language in-“  
“S-Say honey dammit!!!” Lissa sprung forward, topping the table, and making a leap for Maribelle. She gripped at either drill of her hair, and gripped at it like head side reins. The girl gasped, but already she felt her resistance shocked, like a deer in the headlights.

“Lissa? What are you doing to… I don’t know what’s going on…” She closed her eyes, and gulped. Lissa felt no desire to save a thread of her own clothing, the cleric shredding apart her dress and discarding the useless curtain to the side, dropping the caging to her skirt and kicking it to the same side. She was down to her perky chest, her thing stomach shimmering with anticipation sweat, and her leggings, complete with her large bulge. She presses this against the curtained rear, feeling the large mounds hidden behind the extravagant clothing. 

“Do I even have to ask what that thing that is touching me is?! Lissa, what did you get such a thing? Have you purchased some lewd toy, or-“

“It grew in~” Lissa purred, her voice still maintained that innocent pitch but found merit in a new husky tone, a seductive innocence that promised all sorts of devious corruption and slurped on the nectar of her own taint every so happily. The contrast was clear and brought shiver’s to the thicker blonde’s body. She felt a rip, which made the more luxurious of the due feel intense stress build up in her form. She wanted to scream that she was ruining her attire as she felt more air slip in past the tear in her clothing, but Lissa brought up her comment before she could muster up some retort. “My goodness, I never got to see your panties before. You have really good taste~” She complimented the incredible undergarments she was graced with sighting. Pink and as frilly as you can imagine, with all sorts of floral arrangements to the flowery bends and curls of the patterns within it. Lissa pinched at either end of the pair, and made a little tear. “Oh my, and I for sure never got to see this~” Lissa peered between the fat cheeks through her underwear, and spotted sensitive little pink pucker. 

She never thought these things were supposed to be this colorful, this absolutely perfectly colored, it could glow with that watercolor shade of shimmering pink, palely shaded and absolutely shimmering around that ring. Lissa regarded it with a wet kiss and a prodding of her tongue. This drove Maribelle absolutely nuts. She gripped tightly at the stove, trying to keep her rear to Lissa, but feeling her stomach sink lower to the ground, making the girl have the pose of a hammock. 

Lissa licks and lathers, dampening that hole. She feels Maribelle move more and more and more until finally the teasing snaps the girl. She squeals, letting loose her lament, “P-please stop it! J-just fuck me! You’ve made me so it so crudely, but you’re insistency has pushed me too far! Just tear off the rest of my dress, and stuff it in me!” Lissa needed nothing more graceful of an invitation to take that direction. She pried Maribelle from her stove support, landing her body on the table, letting any glasses in the way fall to floor and crack. She rips the rest of her panties off, throwing them to the side. Moist lips lie between fat thighs, perfectly floral with a succulent shade of appetizing pink. Lissa’s tongue was already quite pleased with the events, but her dick was beyond unsatisfied. Beads of pre spread her head’s lips wide, drooling at the sight of such a seductive beauty. Lissa could take it no longer. She had a thirst that must be quenched. She looked over the body of the girl, her head tilted slightly, panting. Her eye color showed through the shadows on her face, her bangs loose and wild.

Lissa grabbed handfuls of thigh, and climbed over mounds and curves. Carefully positioning her own thighs, letting the sensitive tip to her cock press adeptly against the brim of her spread open crevice. With a sharp inhale, she slammed her hips forward, the table shrieking a low creek, jiggling thighs slapping against one another. Their eyes shot wide, and both girls were committed to their sinful pleasures. Oozing drool from her lips, Maribelle’s mind blown from the most sinister pleasures she ever graced her body with, she cooed for “More! Please dear, more!!!” To which end Lissa was more than obliged to provide. Her dick was demonic in size, absolutely a monster, and it secreted sinful flavors and tinctures in unsightly squirts with no rhythm to predict when the next spew of white-transparent fluid would fill the untouched inners of the girl below her. Lissa’s eyes were foggy. This beat masturbating a thousand fold. She sees why she needed three sessions everyday just to function! She was a fountain of sin filled to overflowing, and she needed to let some of her corruption leak out into others from time to time!

Her suspicions were confirmed, for she felt a sprouting nub press against her own shaft between insertions. Maribelle was taking to the corruption at an incredible rate, an absolute fast forward version of Lissa’s. The difference was between watching a tree go, and a highlight reel of a tree growing. Where Lissa took days to be a howling sex fiend, Maribelle was already there. Her eyes were glassy, and seemed to light up whenever they hazily sailed over a breast and caught sight of a dick sliding in and out of her. And now, between her fertile thighs, her once immaculately feminine curves were now tainted by a weed that grew in her garden. Like all weeds should, this drunkenly lustful plant sprouted with incredible speed. It achieved a state of growth that could match Lissa’s own, perhaps go a little ways further. The shade of it was a tad bit darker red than the rest of Maribelle, and it was of decent thickness where as Lissa’s was a thick devastator of a rod. Lissa took satisfaction in the comparison, unable to think of any other way she could have it. As she thrusted, she felt it press against her lower belly, the same place the rashes had first occurred. It felt incredible, ignited the same itchy heat all over again, and Lissa hadn’t a doubt it would be a perfect place to invest the time of her hands.

Applying pressure more hefty than she ever would to her own dick, Lissa rode one hand up and against that cock, using her other hand to maintain a steady balance on the tea table. She jerked up and down, a wonderful motion to make. Just the sensation of that dick in her, the texture to it and how slick it already felt was enough to make Lissa spew another unceremonious load. Lissa was close at this point, the rate she brutally thrusted into the girl below her was staggering. She worked up a sweat, little beads gracefully falling down across her thing stomach, shivering a little liquid bridge over her naval. She couldn't keep herself together much longer, and with the pressure building up right below her head, like a tense belt tight around her cock, she knew she was close. Closer than ever. This wasn't just a climax, it was dropping a load, completely emptying herself, and sealing the deal on tainting the girl below her. With no restraint, an almost animal desire to fill and cum, she spewed every last drop of her girl cum. But not before the thought occurring to her to gift Maribelle with a new concoction.

Without removing her hand from the new formed dick, without ever letting loose the pressure she had applied, Lissa removed herself from the girl below her, and retrieved one of the cups of tea. She put it on Maribelle’s stomach, and carefully positioned herself. A drop of sweat from her dick dropped into the cup, and then a spew of cum entered the glass as well, dropping like a load of pebbles and splattering the beverage across the girl’s stomach. She forced the girl to sample the beverage, the corrupted blonde more than happy to sip it all down. “My, my~ Dare I say it, but this is incredible. A salty tea of your own brew~ “ Lissa grinned, helping Maribelle to finish off her own load, and prepare a tea kettle.

 

…

 

As time went on, females of the army were invited back to Maribelle’s tent, as tea parties became very common. No one knew for sure what went on at these, but all the girl’s came back with much less focus. Anna seemed to easing her currency towards special appliances with lewd intentions. Tharja’s hexes seemed to have lost some of their lethal oomph, their sinister energies refocused. Sumia never eyed a Pegasus the same way again. No one ever really said what happened at these parties, but all of them could give away one morsel. They’d never forget the salty tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, point out any major issues with grammar, phrasing, or spelling. If you enjoyed, hey, that's awesome~! I put so much effort into this, literally the most elaborate fanfiction I have ever made. If any of you really adored it, and if there's enough of ya, I could expand this little universe to encapsulate all of the females from the series~ Wouldn't that be incredible?~ Thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me. Stay awesome.


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